The Serpentines
by TeeterTotter
Summary: When Harry Potter makes the cut for the nationwide sensation, The Serpentines, he's in for the ride of his life, no thanks to his new band mate Draco Malfoy, and their new rival band Red Lions. AU, SLASH.
1. It All Starts Here

**Story:** The Serpentines

**Rating:** PG-13 (Might change later on)

**Disclaimer: **Characters belong to JK Rowling. .... :'

**Warnings: **AU, HPDM Slash (Eventually!), Non-magic, WiP

**Summary: **When Harry Potter makes the cut for the nationwide sensation, The Serpentines, he's in for the ride of his life, no thanks to his new band mate, Draco Malfoy. Unfortunately for Harry, he's not as made for being a musician as he thought he was, but he'll be damned if he let's Draco know that, especially when he thinks the other man's got a hidden agenda.

**Notes and such:** Well this is my third Harry Potter fanfic, EVER! Though the first on this account, and it's been a long time since I've written one, so hopefully it's not_ too_ horrible. Haha! I've had this idea running around in my head for a long time, but I finally decided to just go with it! I know it starts off in the middle of stuff, but when I write things, I play it like a movie in my head, and I like when movies start in the middle of a scene, and then give you back information as you go. Though I don't know if anyone else will like it.. Hopefully you will!

-

* * *

-

The smell of sweat and feel of adrenaline swam through the corridors of the backstage area Harry Potter was currently sitting in. Well, more like shifting nervously every few seconds with his legs bouncing uncontrollably against the cement floor. But that wasn't important. Neither was the fact that his stomach was twisting in knots, and his previously styled hair was now in complete disarray, not that it had looked much better before.

Whose bright idea was it to leave him all alone, anyways? With all the hundreds of people running back and forth, you'd think he'd at least have _some_ company, even if it was only the janitor.

Unfortunately for Harry, his band mates were all currently occupied elsewhere, leaving him to his thoughts. Thoughts he'd rather not be having, thank you very much. He couldn't think about the fact that he was going onstage in less than twenty minutes, to an arena packed full of people who were here to see The Serpentines, the band Harry had not too long ago become a member of. Nobody was coming to see him, Harry Potter. Nobody even gave a wink about him, let alone wanted to watch him attempt to play an instrument. So what was he doing here?

Harry hated tomatoes.

He didn't like to eat tomatoes, smell tomatoes, and certainly did not enjoy being pelted with tomatoes. Not that the particular situation had ever happened before, so he couldn't say from experience… But he just knew he wouldn't like it. That's what people did though, isn't it? When they didn't enjoy a show or performance, they threw tomatoes. Now that he thought about it, he didn't like cabbage, either. Or popcorn. Or anything of the various things people could haul at him.

He was just going to give up food in general. That would cover it, right? Right.

There really should be someone around to help him calm down, because now his leg was bouncing more fervently, and Harry couldn't seem to control it. Sometime during his thoughts, his right hand had moved to his mouth, and he found himself with the nasty habit of gnawing on his meticulously cut and groomed fingernails. What a silly idea, grooming your fingernails. However, his mates insisted on it, assuring him that if he was going to be playing a guitar, his nails needed to look perfect in case someone had taken a picture of his hands. Harry, however, thought it was a waste of time. Nobody took pictures of people's hands. Well, with the exception of—

"Harry Potter, release your hand immediately! Such a vile habit."

Snapping his head up at the owner of that shrill voice and interrupter of his thoughts, Harry spotted Pansy glaring at him from above. Immediately, he did as she ordered and slammed his hand down on the cushion beside him. This couch was dreadfully uncomfortable, he noticed, bouncing up and down on it a few times.

"Harry, there you are," announced a bushy-haired brunette who appeared behind Pansy. She rushed over to him instantly, her arms wrapping around his shoulders in what was presumably a comforting hug. It worked, a little. The fact that Hermione was here at all actually relieved Harry immensely. It was one less person to throw tomatoes at him.

"Hermione, I'm glad you made it." He smiled at her when she pulled away, choosing instead to sit beside him, her hands moving to fix the mess he had made of his hair.

"I wouldn't miss this for the world, Harry. It's your first big show, I'm so excited!" She squeaked and held on tightly to his hands. "Oh, aren't you excited? I'll bet it's wonderful up there on stage, with everyone watching you, cheering for you…" _Throwing tomatoes at you._

"Yeah, 'Mione, super excited," he replied in a shaky voice. He turned to notice Pansy was still standing there, watching their little exchange impatiently. Obviously, Harry was supposed to be doing other things, and this little chat with Hermione didn't fit into his schedule. Of course, neither did sitting in an isolated room worry your brains out, so Harry wasn't going to rush himself now.

"Harry, don't be nervous. You're a wonderful musician, and you know all the songs. You'll do great, I'm positive."

Before he could protest, and tell Hermione that he _couldn't_ do it and that at the moment, he couldn't remember any of the songs, but he never got the chance to, because Pansy was whisking him up from his seat on the couch, and pulling him through the door that led to the hallway. He was vaguely aware of her listing something off to him, no doubt what he was supposed to be doing, but the sight of Hermione waving goodbye to him excitedly, mixed with the loud clicks of Pansy's high heels captivated his attention more than her voice.

Harry didn't know where they were headed, but glancing at a clock along the wall, he noticed it was only ten minutes until they went on stage. Shouldn't he be busy with something like tuning his bass, or making sure everything was working? Surely something terrible could have happened in between the sound check yesterday and now. For all he knew, all his guitars could be missing, and he'll go up there looking like a complete fool. His palms began to sweat.

Finally, they turned into a room filled with more people than there should be. He was greeted with smiles upon his entrance, and he smiled in return, vaguely remembering some of these people he had already been introduced to. All he knew was that they were part of the act, dancers and performers who would do things in the background. Soon enough though, he spotted two bright blond heads and a black-haired one next to them, through the mass of people.

Quickly making his way over to them, he sighed when he spotted his previously missing band mates, thankful that he could squelch his earlier fear of being abandoned by them. Honestly, Harry did not do well with nervousness. He always turned into a mess.

"Harry, we're just going over the set list one more time, come have a look," the pretty, blond girl replied. He looked her over, the front of her hair pinned up in meticulous swirls, the rest falling in lazy curls against her back. She had on a cream-colored gown that fit her snugly, looking exactly like an old-time dress that you saw in the late 1600's. The skirt portion of the dress, though, was cut much shorter than it was back then. It puffed out, but stopped just above her knees, showing off her thin legs and ballet flats. All in all, it was a very confusing, and over-the-top outfit.

He sat down next to the dark-skinned man on her side, closest to himself, and glanced over at the list. It had the names of the band's songs scribbled on it in the order they were to play them, but Harry chose to examine everyone else's outfits, despite the fact he should have been memorizing the list.

The man next to him was wearing an outfit similar to that of his, and the other blond haired man's. However, his was a navy blue color, and like his, the coat stopped much shorter than Blondie's did. Harry's was a rich red color that seemed incredibly bright in comparison to the blue of this man's, and the green coat that Blondie wore. It was embroidered with a unique bronze design that ran from the collar, down to the waist, and along the cuffs, Harry's being embroidered in gold, while the green coat had a silver trimming. The material was light, he knowing this from the fact that his was made of the same thing, and according to everyone else, this was a good thing. Underneath, they all wore black button-downs, except for the blond who wore dark green.

The three beside him all nodded quickly and began to stand up. Damn it, he completely missed the whole conversation! No helping it now, he supposed, and followed them into the center of the crowded room. He wasn't sure what they were doing, and everyone had suddenly gone quiet, worrying him some. Not noticing the feel of someone's cool hands grabbing his, he gave a yelp when he was yanked forward unexpectedly, his hand being pulled into the pile of hands with everyone else. They were all stacked together, moving slowly up and down, as everyone counted down.

"3, 2, 1, GO!"

And they did.

All at once, everybody bounded out of the room with an incredible amount of energy that Harry wished he had a fraction of. Harry was one of the last people out of the room, and when he realized where everyone was headed, he stopped at once.

He couldn't do this.

He wasn't made for going on stage in front of Heaven's knows how many people.

Harry was already formulating an escape plan in his head, when he was shaken roughly. Unfortunately for him, Blondie was right behind him, and seemed upset for the sudden stop. Harry looked at him, his eyes wide and frantic, and the other man's sour expression turned into one of amusement.

"You're not afraid of being on stage, Potter, are you?" The voice drawled out in a tone that was both teasing and worried at the same time.

"Of course not," he snapped back, furrowing his brows. Actually, he _was_ afraid. He had been known to suffer from stage fright on several occasions, but normally he got over it quickly. Although, his stage fright was never this intense, because he never went on stage in front of so many people who were just waiting to boo at him and throw vegetables.

"I think you are," the blond man grinned as he crossed his arms in a superior manner over his chest. "Perhaps I was right, and you weren't cut out for this after all. Maybe you should just go back home, we can find a replacement in no time."

Harry wanted to smack the smug look off of that pale face. He refrained, regretfully. It would do no good to have a row right before a performance, especially not with a band mate.

But he needed to think of something, anything, to make his frantic behavior plausible. What could he say though?

"I'm just, er," he stuttered, before he had even thought of a believable lie. Had food poisoning? No, maybe he could say he had been groped by some old man and had been spooked since. That was highly unlikely, and would cause a bigger mess. Perhaps announcing a fear of spiders would remedy the situation. But then he'd be teased about that. Quickly, he just blurted out the next phobia he could think of, when the pale pink lips parted to no doubt insult him. "I'm Claustrophobic!"

Several people turned to stare after his sudden proclamation. Ducking his head, he didn't get to see the unbelieving look on the blond's face as he arched one of those delicate looking eyebrows.

"Claustrophobic? Well then, we'll just have to make sure we don't stick you in anymore tight, enclosed spaces. Now Potter, since you're not afraid of that terrifying looking stage over there, you better get a move on. You're holding us up."

He glanced behind him to notice that there were a few more people behind them who were watching with impatience. Quickly, he headed towards the, indeed, terrifying stage. Gulping dramatically, he marched off onto his doom with the rest of them.

Making sure to stare at the floor the entire time, he halfheartedly lifted his hand to high-five the people offering encouragement to everyone along the way. A lot of good their words would do him now, he thought bitterly. Thankfully for him, he noticed that the stage curtain was closed. Heaving a big sigh of relief, he headed to the other side of the stage where more people were waiting. One person was holding out his bass for him, and he grabbed it eagerly, slipping the strap over his head to rest comfortably on his shoulder.

Though the young man who handed it to him assured him that everything was tuned and in working order, Harry hardly believed him, and plucked a string for himself as he went back to the area he was supposedly assigned to. He was startled at the deafening screams coming from the other side of the curtain.

Glancing back, he noticed the dark haired man was taking place atop the stand that held up the drum set. To his left was the blond girl, another man handing her a guitar. She noticed Harry staring, and gave him a wide smile, before she plucked a string of her own. If possible, the screaming got louder, and Harry's eyes widened. How many people were out there?

He was grateful that they had earpieces, and he understood exactly why they needed them now. Admittedly, he had been skeptical when they told him that he wouldn't be able to hear his own bass when he played, but realizing now just how loud the people on the other side of the curtain were, it made sense.

He couldn't really call them fans, though, at least not yet. They were fans of The Serpentines, certainly, but not of him, not Harry. Hopefully that would change, and he would be accepted. He didn't get much time to dwell on that thought, though, because the curtain began to shift, and open sideways.

A feeling of dread quickly washed over Harry, and his stomach dropped significantly lower than it should of, he was sure. He faintly recalled the fact that he was supposed to be strumming some sort of chord until they started their first song. Something like C minor, or D major, he couldn't remember. He couldn't really remember anything but the drummer behind him and the guitarist to his left frowning at him. Oh, and the hordes of screaming people jumping up and down staring at him expectantly.

Fear was claiming him, and as he gazed out along the crowd of hundreds—or were there thousands?—all Harry could think was, "Well, say goodbye to your music career, Harry."

-

* * *

-

**Please review and let me know what you think! :)**


	2. There's A Shark In The Water

**Story:** The Serpentines

**Rating:** PG-13 (Might change later on)

**Disclaimer: **Characters belong to JK Rowling. :'( And I make no profit off of this, yadda yadda yadda...

**Warnings: **AU, HPDM Slash (Eventually!), Non-magic, WiP

**Summary: **When Harry Potter makes the cut for the nationwide sensation, The Serpentines, he's in for the ride of his life, no thanks to his new band mate, Draco Malfoy. Unfortunately for Harry, he's not as made for being a musician as he thought he was, but he'll be damned if he let's Draco know that, especially when he thinks the other man's got a hidden agenda.

**Notes and such:** I don't think this was my favorite chapter so far, but I think I kind of needed to have it in there... at least that's what I think right now. Haha, hopefully you guys don't dislike it _too_ much.. If at all. I promise the next one will be more interesting! There will definitely be more interaction between the band members. Um, that's all, I think!

* * *

Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy never got along, right from the beginning.

Auditioning to be part of one of the most famous bands in the world at this the time was a nerve-wracking task in its own. Add trying to make your way onto the good side of the lead singer made the whole situation that much more difficult.

Wiping his sweaty palms on his dark jeans that seemed far too casual for this audition, Harry surveyed the small group of people settled on the other side of the light wooden table. The three in the middle Harry knew from pictures and CD cases. They were the remaining members of the band The Serpentines, and they were currently scrutinizing every bit of Harry, from his nervous, awkward stance, to his unruly black locks. They were judging him, and though it wasn't the first time he had felt this way, Harry regretted his choice in attire and lack of charisma. It was these people who would make or break his not-quite-launched music career.

Actually, coming to this audition had been a last minute decision. He adored the band, listened to them religiously almost, and had learned all of their songs on his bass guitar long before one of the members had split. He still remembered vividly the day that it was announced that their bassist had just up and quit the band. Harry had been devastated, calling Hermione over immediately to mourn the split. He had been certain that since they were short a member, the band would either quit altogether, or would just ruin the whole dynamics by recruiting some random bassist that nobody had heard of.

"_It has been announced today that Millicent Bulstrode, bassist for The Serpentines, is leaving the band._

_The Serpentines, a group made up of vocalist Draco Malfoy, guitarist Astoria Greengrass, and drummer Blaise Zabini, was founded when the two childhood friends, Draco and Astoria, chose to form a band, bringing in former schoolmate and friend, drummer Blaise Zabini. They held auditions for a bassist, and Millicent happened to be lucky enough to be chosen. Though they hadn't expected the millions of followers and sudden fame, The Serpentines have managed to keep such a big fan base, and have released two albums so far, and have been said to be working on their third one at the moment._

_Neither reps have yet made a statement about why Ms. Bulstrode chose to leave the band, but we suspect it had something to do with the rumors circulating about her alleged love affair with The Serpentines' manager, Pansy Parkinson, that ended in a dramatic breakup. Though the rumors have not been confirmed that the two women engaged in such matters, it was clear to everyone that an intimate relationship was forming between the two females._

_So what's going to happen with the band? Are we going to have to say goodbye to one of the most beloved and influential bands of our time? Will Millicent be replaced, and by whom?"_

Of course, Hermione did come over that morning, and knocked some sense into Harry. This happened to a lot of bands, and one person who, in Hermione's opinion, wasn't very good to begin with was not going to ruin it for everyone. She had made him see that this was a golden opportunity for the band to make some changes, _better _changes.

He owed her everything and then some. Without her smarts, he would never have been able to come here today and try out for this band. He wouldn't have this shot to make his dreams a reality, to make it _worth something._ Nobody could ever find him a better best friend than Hermione Granger, and that was a fact he was willing to bet his life on.

* * *

He was hyperventilating.

The air he had been gulping in quick, short puffs was like a thick fog, almost tangible, and it was choking him. He couldn't breathe, and he could feel his head begin to lighten, his vision swimming in stars and bright lights as it swayed side to side like a ship out on sea.

It certainly didn't help any when the red-headed girl in the front row reached into her sweater, pulling out something red and shiny. The harsh gasp Harry inhaled at that moment was loud even in his ears, and it took all he had not to beg for her mercy right then. He knew, _just knew,_ they were going to have tomatoes! Though this town had weird tomatoes, ones that were far more square than the ones Harry usually saw.

He didn't have time to dwell on the thoughts of the cube tomatoes for long, because he was suddenly spun around, his eyes been forced to meet stormy gray ones. He could literally see the angry clouds in those eyes, how they were swirling and rumbling with the desire to strike lightning at the first potential victim it saw. But the clouds didn't stay sealed in those irises, but rather spread throughout the eyelashes and eyebrows, filling up Harry's vision of the fairies from before with this murky haze. If possible, the brightness of the little spots grew brighter, and Harry had to screw his eyes shut tight in pain, although that only dimmed their light acutely.

His arms felt like dead weight on his body, and his legs like pudding gave him the odd sensation that he wasn't standing, but floating. Floating in the dark fog with the fairies—that's how Harry was going to spend his days from now on. It didn't seem so bad, when you thought about it.

Unfortunately, his newly found friends were trudging away from that fog as quickly as they could. They scurried out of his sight, and Harry could finally open his eyes without being blinded.

Upon gaining his vision back, however, he quickly shut his eyes once more, a feeling of intense embarrassment washing over him. Somewhere between the time he had been turned around, through his fairy adventure, and back to reality, Harry had been dragged to the side of the stage with nearly everybody hovering around him. He could feel and hear the crinkling paper bag that would expand and deflate with each breath he took. Somebody was holding it securely against his mouth, and based off of his quick glance, he guessed it to be Malfoy.

_Oh great_, Malfoy, who practically hated Harry, was sitting here and being forced to nurse his newbie band mate to good health and consciousness. Could this day get any worse?

"Potter, if you're awake now I'd appreciate it if you could sit up and tell us what the fuck just happened."

Cringing, Harry squinted one eye open and shuffled himself into a sitting position that took longer than it should have, due to his body feeling very weak. He looked around freely now at all the concerned faces, and couldn't help the guilt that pounded behind his heart, next to the incredible soreness that was radiating from his over-exerted lungs.

Hermione was grasping his hand tightly, and he stared at her for a long moment before deciding to speak up so that he wouldn't have to deal with anymore snappy words from Malfoy or anyone else. "I'm fairly certain it was a panic attack," he mumbled quietly.

While it wasn't the truth, it wasn't a lie, either. He did have a panic attack, obviously, it was just brought on by the fact that he apparently had horrible stage fright. But they didn't need to know that. After all, who wanted a performer who was afraid of performing? That just didn't make sense.

"Why?" Someone Harry couldn't see had asked, and a few people nodded, everyone awaiting the answer.

Maybe he could tell them someone had a gun. That would be sufficient reasoning for having a panic attack, and it wouldn't be so uncomfortable for him to announce. _That's too far from the truth_. He didn't want to scare everyone else, and surely they'd have to cancel the show if everyone thought people in the crowd had guns. Hmm, perhaps he could say he saw someone very menacing in the front row. It was true, too, that girl with the box tomato was very scary. _Very scary, indeed._

"I saw someone—they had this thing. It was very frightening, and, er… Well I suppose I just freaked out, a bit." He nodded, satisfied with his answer, and waited for everyone to process it.

"What did they have that was so scary?"

Harry scowled, refusing to answer.

"C'mon Harry, what did they have?"

"Yeah, was it a gun?" Though Harry wanted to say yes, he found himself shaking his head.

"Well, Potter, what was it?"

Sighing, resigned, he murmured quietly, "A tomato."

It was eerily quiet for being on the side of a stage, tons of people only a few feet away, still shouting for them. _But not you, Harry, they're not screaming for you._ There were a few chuckles that went around the circle, not "that's funny ha-ha" chuckles, but the awkward kind where nobody knew what else to do. His cheeks were burning, and if he didn't know for certain that there were no lighters or matches allowed near the stage, he'd think someone had lit his face on fire. The eyes boring into his downturned head only fueled the growing ghost-fire.

Pale fingers wrapped themselves tightly around Harry's wrist, and for a second the cool temperature of Malfoy's hand felt great on his enflamed skin. But then those fingers were digging into his flesh hard, and he was hoisted up into a standing position and being dragged back towards the stage. His heart began to beat wildly, and a wave of dizziness hit him like a bat to the head, making his feet stumble over one another. This didn't stop Malfoy, though, and Harry felt like a ragdoll being dragged along the ground by a careless child. He tried stopping Malfoy, he really did, but the blond was a man on a mission, and was not going to easily be dissuaded.

"Malfoy, what are you doing? I don't think I can go back out there right now," Harry pleaded for the blond to stop, his voice high and whiney.

This seemed to stop Malfoy, and he turned his venomous gaze on Harry, his eyes narrowed into thin slits that made it seem as though his eyes weren't even open. He could feel himself shrink back into his shoulders at the sight, and could see just how pathetic he looked, reflected back at him through the glassy surface of Malfoy's momentarily thin strips of eyes. "Listen to me, Potter," he hissed, the grip on Harry's wrist becoming impossibly tight. "You are going to go back onto that stage, and play exactly how we have been practicing this past month. You will not screw this up because of a fucking vegetable. Do not tell me that you do not have stage fright, because I can see past your crap you keep spewing. I have worked hard for all this, everything that you have barely stepped foot in has been because of _me._ Do you understand? This is _my_ life you're messing with, and I will not tolerate it. I have worked too hard for some pathetic, little, immature prick to ruin, just because he can't handle a few lights and people."

Harry wanted to fight back, wanted to yell at Malfoy. He wanted to tell him that he couldn't have done all this on his own, and that he was taking too much credit for his fame. He wanted to give some snarky reply about how tomatoes had seeds, and could also be classified as a fruit, too, not only a vegetable. He _wanted_ to punch Malfoy and run, to leave the band and never return. All of this was all hypothetical for Harry, and all he really could do was sigh and nod, obediently following Malfoy like a kicked puppy.

_You can do this,_ he ran through his head as his new mantra. _You will do this_, he added, slinging his guitar strap over his head after one of the roadies handed it to him. The rest of the band had already taken their places and were patiently waiting for Harry and Draco to take their spots. Draco went first, shooting Harry a warning glare, before striding elegantly to the center of the stage where the microphone was placed.

"Ladies and gentlemen, good evening!"

A big Cheshire grin was painted on Draco's face, and if Harry hadn't seen that angry stare the blond had given him right before he confidently unhooked the microphone, Harry would have thought him truly excited. He didn't have much time to think on Malfoy's face, because his ears were suddenly assaulted with a deafening noise them emitted from the crowd before them. Reluctantly, Harry turned his eyes onto the formidable crowd, wincing as he noticed that lots of them were staring at him intently.

His heart _thu-thumped_ quickly, and he went back to watching Malfoy, finding that he felt significantly less terrified when his attention was elsewhere.

Using his left hand to hold the microphone, Malfoy made a swift motion with his right hand, his eyes darting to Harry quickly, before he turned back to the crowd. This was a cue, he knew, one to signal that they begin playing the chords in the background as Malfoy announced the band, and just talked in general. It was improvisational, and had Malfoy not been charismatic enough, and a quick thinker, Harry knew that improvisational opportunities might not be the best, especially when around someone such as himself. But Malfoy could handle it. If Harry screwed up somehow, he trusted Malfoy to be able to fix things, and he knew that that was why he had so willingly let Malfoy drag him back on stage and yell at him. He accepted it, because he knew Malfoy was _improvising_, trying to put the show back on, despite a major setback.

Strumming idly, he went back to his task of watching the blond in action, not ever having a chance to see this side of Malfoy, the performer. Aside from snooty, authoritative, mean Malfoy, Harry hadn't seen much else and this, _this Malfoy_, was very interesting.

Thankfully, he didn't miss the chord change while he was engrossed with defining this new persona he observed from his lead singer.

He could hear the smooth tones of Malfoy's voice in his ear, the earpiece being a very helpful opponent against the audience. "We're all so very glad you could join us this evening," he was saying, as he bent over slightly, holding onto the microphone stand with his free hand. With his back turned to Harry, the brunette had a better view of the rest of his outfit, the black trousers hugging his legs snug. Where Harry's coat cut off, the deep green thin coat of Malfoy's continued, forming a W shape with the material that made it flow around Malfoy's body when he walked. The outfit, along with his aristocratic features truly made him look as though he was from another era, and Harry couldn't help the nab of jealousy for Malfoy's good looks. The man could probably pull off anything, whereas Harry looked bad in most things he wore.

"We'd like to thank all of you guys for supporting us on our last two tours, and continuing to support us through this one. I know some of you have been here from the beginning, to see us through this life we've made for ourselves, and if it weren't for you guys, well, we wouldn't be here," at this point, Malfoy gave a low chuckle, something Harry was sure was fake. "Although, that doesn't mean we don't appreciate you new fans."

The screams came in a quick jab this time, from who Harry assumed were the "new fans" Malfoy referred to. "We hope that you guys enjoy the show tonight, and that you'll continue to stay fans. Now," he began pacing slowly around the stage, "I believe we have a few introductions to make." The screaming once again intensified, and Harry felt like he was listening to a vocalized tug-of-war match between people screaming, and people being quiet. At the moment, the screaming people were winning.

"We're going to make a little game out of this, though. Let's see if you really know us," Malfoy grinned at the crowd, before turning his back to them, and gesturing around the stage with his hand. "Which of these lovely, _lovely_, people behind me could I be talking about when I say that they have a particularly curious kink for leather and metal?"

Harry couldn't help but laugh at Draco's very vague description of their drummer, and the not-so-innocent whistles and cat-calls that made their way out of the mass of energetic arms that Harry looked over to.

"Oi! You're all a naughty group, aren't you? I was referring to leather clothes and jewelry of course! Get your minds out of the gutter! Blaise Zabini on drums, everybody!"

What Malfoy had said described Blaise very accurately. Harry had never seen anyone before with so many leather pants and jackets before, who wasn't a biker. And for being a very straight—Harry could vouch for all the women he brought to their shared space—man, he had acquired a large amount of jewelry over the years that he wore often, if not every day. Harry could hear Blaise banging on the drums randomly, and he looked back to see the dark man flailing his arms theatrically, as if to say, "I'm Blaise! Hear my drums!" Snickering, Harry moved back to watch Malfoy, waiting for his next announcement, much like the crowd, but extremely less enthusiastically.

"Now this next person, well, they're a bit of a spoiled brat, really," Malfoy chuckled again, this one sounding genuine as the blond on the guitar stuck her tongue out at him. "Though I'm sure that bit already gave it away, this person also has a quirky sense of style, always dressing so _fancy_." As if to stress that last word further, Malfoy reached over to fluff the frilly bottom of Astoria's dress. "But I don't know what I'd do without her. Astoria Greengrass on guitar!"

The hoots and hollers came, and Harry absentmindedly thought about how Astoria felt being the only girl in the band, now that Millicent had left.

"Well there's only one person left," Malfoy announced, sauntering over to Harry. He placed is arm around Harry's shoulder in what was—Harry assumed—supposed to be a casual move. However, he had not been expecting it, and as such, the little tune he had been directed to play while Malfoy was talking, turned into something jumbled and musically incoherent. Malfoy's gaze snapped to Harry immediately, that angry spark igniting rapidly in his eyes, and Harry wished he had better control of his body. He didn't mean to be so clumsy, but sometimes these things just happened. Mentally scolding Malfoy for spooking him, he gave him a sheepish grin, resuming playing correctly.

"We don't really know too much about him, ourselves, but we do know that he's one heck of a bass player! Astoria, Blaise and I are happy to welcome Harry Potter to the band, and we're sure you're all going to like him just as much as we do!" Malfoy gave him a wink before moving back to the center of the stage. Whooping yells and more screaming came, whether they were for him or Malfoy, Harry wasn't sure.

"I'm Draco Malfoy, and we are The Serpentines! Enjoy the show!"

* * *

"Can you play anything other than the Bass, Potter?" Blondie—Draco—asked.

Harry cringed. He hated when people referred to him by his surname. Not that he didn't like the name "Potter," it just seemed too formal a name to be called by his _potential_ band mate.

"Yes, I can. I've had a sort of musical upbringing, so I can play several instruments. Piano, Saxophone, all that."

"Can you sing?"

"Er," he shot a look around at each person, waiting to see if maybe Draco was joking. He wouldn't be joking, though. This was a band, after all, and members should probably be able to sing for backups and such. "I suppose a little."

Draco smirked. "Sing something for us, then."

_You should have just said no, idiot! _Gulping loudly, Harry stared down at his scuffed shoes and tried to recall a song, _any song!_ He could sing that one song… No, no! What if they wanted him to sing one of their songs? Whew, it's a good thing he figured this out sooner, rather than later. Clearing his throat, he sang the chorus from one of his favorite songs by them, quite successfully, he might add.

"How," Blondie paused as if he was searching for the right word, "Original, Potter."

Harry's spirit sunk just a bit. He thought he'd been doing, at the best, decently at this audition, but so far it seemed that this guy, _Malfoy_, really didn't like him. He hadn't even played his guitar yet, and already he felt like this was a complete failure.

But he was failing for the wrong reasons, and despite his severe dislike of confrontation, he was going to give Malfoy a piece of his mind.

* * *

Please review! I would definitely appreciate it! And it makes me very happy. :)


	3. Telling Stories

**Story:** The Serpentines

**Rating:** PG-13 (Might change later on)

**Disclaimer:** Characters belong to JK Rowling. :'( And I make no profit off of this, yadda yadda yadda...

**Warnings:** AU, HPDM Slash (Eventually!), Non-magic, WiP

**Summary:** When Harry Potter makes the cut for the nationwide sensation, The Serpentines, he's in for the ride of his life, no thanks to his new band mate, Draco Malfoy. Unfortunately for Harry, he's not as made for being a musician as he thought he was. But he'll be damned if he lets Draco know that, especially when he thinks the other man's got a hidden agenda.

**Notes and such:** I really wanted to get this out on Christmas (like a Christmas present for you guys!), or at least during the weekend! Sadly, my internet went completely bonkers and would not connect until today. : ( Oh well… So how did your guys' Christmas go? If you celebrate it, that is. I finally got Crisis Core: Final Fantasy VII! It kept me entertained while I waited for my internet to work. Now I'm addicted! So if I don't end up posting the next chapter this coming weekend, you all know why… Haha! Well I hope you guys like this chapter! I said there'd be more of Astoria and Blaise, but there wasn't really until the end. I actually re-wrote this chapter a couple of times, and did a lot of deleting and adding. Blah, I'm blabbing too much! Enjoy (Especially the part breakfast part, which I loved the most, just because it's kind of the beginning of stuff. Even though it's really short...)!

* * *

Draco Malfoy turned out to be the best distraction that Harry would have never thought of.

Even though he was supposed to be more mobile around the stage, he found that it wasn't as easy as he had been thinking. Figuring that once he got over the initial shock of the crowd and his stage fright, Harry had planned to walk around to make himself seem less…boring.

That didn't happen though. Every time Harry worked up the courage to look away from his fingers that were plucking along on his bass he would have another panic attack. His stomach would fall and his palms would get sweaty and he would begin to question why he was up there in the first place, instead of running off to somewhere more secluded.

But when he would glance over at Malfoy, he couldn't help but watch. He wasn't the leader of the band for nothing. Even before, when Harry would watch their performances on the television, all he could do was stare, entranced by this character that Malfoy put out there. He truly was another person, and it was fascinating.

Of course, Harry knew better than to think that was the real Malfoy. People always wonder what their favorite singers or actors are like behind the scenes, when they're not performing. It's nice to imagine that they have the same attitude and ideas that they do during a show, or on camera, but it's not reality. Reality is Draco Malfoy scoffing at Harry when he accidentally screwed up his part, or Malfoy blatantly ignoring Harry when he asked a supposedly stupid question.

Malfoy was generally not a nice person. But that didn't make him less interesting.

This was why Harry found his eyes traveling back to the blond man, with his arms gesticulating wildly along with his singing. He was a very good showman, and the crowd was eating it up. Every flick of his wrist and twist of his lips had the girls in the front swooning and crying out his name. The people were like animals in a frenzy over a big, juicy piece of meat that they _couldn't quite reach._

It wasn't that long ago that Harry was in their position. Now, he was living a dream, and he wasn't going to let some silly phobia ruin it for him. He would overcome this, even if it meant staring at Malfoy the whole time.

* * *

"Bull. Shit."

"Honest, Pans! It was this big guy up front, he was just very scary! It was my first show, I didn't know what would happen, if he'd manage to climb on stage or something and beat me, I don't know!" He pondered sniffling pathetically for dramatic effect, but decided against it.

"Potter's Incident" was quickly becoming the conversation topic of every backstage clique. It seemed each group was trying to decide what really happened, and why. None of his band mates talked about it, though. Well, not to his face, at least.

However, when the show had ended and they had been escorted to their waiting room they had been in when they arrived, Pansy stormed in with a murderous glare in her eyes. Harry had been more scared of that look than what she actually had to say. At first, she thought that just staring at Harry would make him spill the beans, but after a few minutes of complete silence, she went off.

"_What were you doing up there?! Do you have any idea what could have happened if you hadn't been forced back out there by Draco? You don't, I know you don't. You may be new, Potter, but you better pray you're a fast learner, because if that happens again, I can guarantee it will be the last time. If you can't handle the stage, get out of the band, do you understand?"_

Harry had just nodded meekly, his face ablaze with embarrassment. It wasn't like he had intended for any of that to happen. If things had gone down his way, he'd have been rocking out before Malfoy even got to the stage. Unfortunately they're called "fantasies" for a reason…

"Listen Harry," Pansy had formerly been pacing the length of the floor while yelling at Harry, but had now taken residence in between him and Astoria. She no longer had that glint in her eyes, but had adopted a sympathetic look across her face. Harry wasn't sure which he preferred more, they both looked pretty scary on her face. "I understand this was your first show in front of so many people, and we should have built you up to it but if you have problems, you need to _tell us._"

Astoria and Blaise were nodding in agreement, but Malfoy had long since occupied himself with something else. _Probably admiring his face._ Annoyance momentarily flickered inside of Harry as he watched Malfoy. He was the one who had been asking for answers earlier, throwing his whole "I'm better than you, so don't ruin my work" speech at Harry, and yet when Harry was here giving answers, he was too good to even pay attention. _Stupid Malfoy, I hope something happens to him, and we'll see how he likes it when he's ignored._

Sighing, he nodded his head as well. Pansy had taken to rubbing her hand across his back, and such coddling from someone who wasn't Astoria or Hermione really unnerved him. Or it could just be because it's _Pansy._ Either way, he felt like he needed to get out of this room. "When are we leaving?"

"10:48," Astoria answered after she had pulled out her cell phone. She immediately began texting, finishing quickly before announcing, "We should get going."

She stood up, her dress flopping lightly at the sudden movement. Blaise followed suit, and they both disappeared into an adjoined room. Pansy and Malfoy were staring intently at their phone. Harry suddenly felt very left out. He didn't know where Astoria and Blaise went, and he wasn't sure if they should follow, but he didn't have a nifty cell phone like Pansy and Malfoy. Thankfully, Pansy seemed to sense his distress and motioned for him and Malfoy to get up. They obliged her, and she ushered them into the same room as Blaise and Astoria.

When Harry walked into the room he practically turned and ran. _They're naked!_ Malfoy walked in and proceeded to unbutton the coat he had worn during the show, hanging it on a hanger before moving onto his shirt. Blaise had already done the same, and was only wearing his boxers now, while Astoria was slipping into her jeans, her lacy bra showing as bright as the sun on a bright summer day.

Was this normal? Surely they all felt indecent enough to _try_ and cover themselves up, right?

Apparently not.

"No need to be modest, Potter. We're going to be living on a bus for Heaven's sake. It's not like we're never going to see you in your knickers."

"Come off it, Malfoy. Not everyone feels the need to flaunt their bodies around like you." _Stupid, stupid, stupid. That didn't even make sense!_

Harry suddenly had everyone's attention. Amused smiles were being thrown his way and it took nearly all of his effort to stare back at them and their nearly naked bodies. Malfoy's expression soured into one of annoyance that was constantly shown around Harry.

"Are you calling me promiscuous?"

"That's really not how I—"

"Listen, Potter," Malfoy interrupted, his finger pointed menacingly in Harry's face. "Just because I'm comfortable with myself in my own skin doesn't mean I'm 'flaunting' it. Don't make pitiful excuses, just because you can't bear to reveal yourself in front of a couple of people. People whom you're going to be spending years with, mind you, if you can even last that long."

"He's got a point, Harry." Astoria hung up her dress in several different pieces before standing beside him.

Rolling his eyes, his fingers went up towards the buttons on his coat as he attempted to swiftly remove his clothes. Harry was not a very coordinated, suave person, and as such ended up fumbling awkwardly with the buttons.

Astoria giggled. "You look like you could use some help there, Harry."

Before he could reply, thin, long, white fingers made their way into his vision. Giving an irritated huff, Harry lifted his head up, intent on telling Astoria he was fine. Seeing Malfoy's eyes boring directly into his own was not what he expected, however. Those agile fingers worked deftly along the buttons, sliding the coat off his shoulder and letting it fall to the ground when they had finished.

Or at least Harry had thought they were finished.

Malfoy's face looked hesitant at first; as if he was making a decision he was unsure about. Slowly, his fingers slid from Harry's shoulders, to the top button of the formal shirt he wore underneath the coat. It was unbuttoned one by one, all the while Harry stood rigid. What was he supposed to do in this kind of situation? Should he try and talk to Malfoy? That seemed too _wrong_ for the situation.

But he felt like he would explode if he didn't say or do _something. _There was this twisting in his gut, like someone had released a capsule inside of him and the contents were bubbling up. Those bubbles just happened to form words when they got past Harry's lips.

"I can undress myself, Malfoy!"

The change that went through Malfoy was instant and intriguing. The blond went from cautious to annoyed in a second, flat. Normally cool gray eyes had swirled into that stormy color that Harry was used t seeing right before Malfoy clenched his fists tightly, an action that Harry was sure prevented Malfoy from recklessly abusing him. He was thankful for that little miracle.

"Then next time stop acting like a huffy adolescent when you can't unbutton yourself, and maybe I won't need to assist you."

"I never asked for your help!"

"Please, everyone could see you were about to rip your clothes off. I didn't do it for your sake; I wanted to make sure we didn't have to spend any more money on your outfit just because you're lumbering fool."

Harry practically growled, his mind thinking up different ways he could attack Malfoy with his fists. His hand twitched in anticipation.

"Come on, Potter. Get out of those clothes and get on the bus. We haven't got all day to be waiting around for you," The blond disdainfully looked Harry up and down.

Before he could retort, Malfoy wandered out of the room, leaving Harry half naked and angry.

* * *

Shifting on the small, squishy couch, Harry fished his phone out of his back pocket. He flipped it open with ease, not even needing to apply much pressure with his thumb. It was so old and cheap that it barely even functioned anymore, and it felt pointless to carry it around. It was times like these, that Harry wished he was more up-to-date with technology.

He didn't have a tiny music player, or a snazzy cell phone, and he didn't know anything about many video games. In fact, he led a pretty boring life, aside from being musically inclined.

That would be his first mission once they went back to Harry's home in a couple of weeks. In the meantime, he needed to find something else to occupy his time…

Astoria was laying across from Harry on the adjacent couch, her feet resting on Blaise's lap as he idly flipped through the channels on the television. Is this what it was going to be like every day? It all seemed so boring; not at all like the extravagant lifestyle Harry had heard so much about.

"Is this what you guys do all day?"

Prying her eyes away from her cell phone that was clutched in her hands, Astoria gave Harry a sympathetic nod. "Unfortunately, yeah. We'll all probably go to sleep in a little while, since it passes the time quicker."

"We're going to sleep while the bus is moving?" Harry was already feeling a little nauseated from the bumping and swaying motion of the bus, and he wasn't sure if he could sleep while it was going on. But it _was _late, and the day had been an extremely tiring one.

"You get used to it after a while," she replied flippantly.

Realizing he didn't actually know where anything in the bus was, he decided he should take a small tour, without the tour guide of course since everyone seemed occupied already. They had offered to show him around the bus and give him a ride to the arena, but Harry had chosen to arrive early with Hermione instead.

"You look like you're thinking too hard. Don't want to burst a brain cell, not that there's probably many left in that head of yours anyways," came a drawl from his side.

Looking around, he noticed he had walked all the way towards the end of the bus where a small room was located. There was a table in the middle with cup holders indented into the wood, which seemed to be used for eating. It was attached to a wall that was half mirror, and on either side was plush seating, the same material that was used to make the couches in the front of the bus. Harry could see his reflection staring back at him, looking just as tired and worn out as he felt. Maybe he should take a look around the bus tomorrow morning.

He was too drained to really even think of anything to say to Malfoy, so Harry just turned back and continued walking the other way. He passed a couple rows of cupboards and cabinets before he arrived in an area that contained what looked like bunk beds. He pulled back the curtain to find a small bed, with bright pink sheets and a couple of fluffy looking pillows. _Must be Malfoy's bed_, he snorted humorously.

Looking around the outside of the beds, he noticed that the bed opposite of what he jokingly said was Malfoy's, had Harry's name scribbled on a piece of paper. It was the top bunk, and when he pulled back the curtain he saw that the bed was empty in comparison to the pink on he'd seen. It only had one pillow and a white bedspread.

He felt like it was too early to go to bed, though. Everyone else was awake, albeit they actually had things to keep them occupied.

They wouldn't do things to him in the middle of the night, would they? He didn't want to wake up with a sharpie moustache, or makeup…

Well, he was tired, and that was a risk he was willing to take.

* * *

Harry was grateful to find that the next morning did not bring a face of makeup or drawings. Feeling refreshed and awake, a just-showered Harry made his way over to the miniature kitchen. The cupboards were well-stocked with food, and he settled for a bowl of cereal.

Pouring cereal quietly was not a very possible task for Harry to do on a moving bus, and he ended up spilling flakes of bran all over the counter and floor when the bus went over a particularly large bump in the road. "Shit," he mumbled, kneeling down to gather the cereal in his hand.

"Pour me a bowl, will you?" came the deep, hoarse voice from behind him.

He turned to see Malfoy sitting on the edge of the bunk beneath Harry's, hunched over as his elbows rested on his knees and his head buried in his hands. He released a deep sigh before lifting his head to stare at Harry. His generally crisp and clear eyes looked misty, as though he wasn't all there. Harry would have asked if he was alright, but Malfoy quickly stood up, and walked down the hallway towards the tiny bathroom. Shrugging, Harry went back to preparing his and Malfoy's breakfast. Since Malfoy had decided to take a shower Harry figured he would be in there for at least ten minutes, and decided to add some fruit to their cereal.

When Malfoy returned from the bathroom looking normal, but at the same time still exhausted, Harry offered him his breakfast. He accepted it silently, sitting down across from Harry at the small dining area next to the kitchen. They ate wordlessly for a few minutes, before Malfoy decided to strike up conversation.

"How did you sleep last night?"

"Fine, although it was hard to get to sleep at first with all the movement," Harry shrugged.

Nodding, Draco scooped another spoonful of bran into his mouth. "What time is it?"

"About eight."

"Astoria and Blaise generally sleep in until ten or eleven. Do you always wake up this early?"

"Yes, this is usually when I wake up. Are you an early riser?"

Malfoy nodded again, and Harry felt the conversation die momentarily, _if you could even call it a conversation._ He was familiar with idle chit-chat, and he was sure that this was going to be a reoccurring thing for him and Malfoy. Digging into his cereal once more, he finished it in a few bites, the chat with Malfoy not picking up again. However, the blond _did_ snatch his bowl from him when he had finished and proceeded to wash both of their dishes. He muttered something about Harry making the cereal, and it being polite that Malfoy be the one to wash it afterwards, and Harry didn't question it.

With no one else awake except for Malfoy, Harry was once again at a loss of what to do in his spare time.

* * *

_62…_

_63…_

_64…_

"Harry, don't look so glum!"

"Oof," Harry suddenly found himself with a lapful of Astoria. The bubbly blond girl was smiling at him brightly that Harry wondered why she was so happy. "I'm not being glum, I'm just so bored!" It was true, he had practically cried from boredom, but had taken up counting how many signs the bus passed. It was not a very exciting game.

Patting his head lightly, she slid off his lap and opted for sitting beside him on the couch. "Sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but this is what it's going to be like almost every day for the next few months." The sympathy radiating off of her was almost tangible.

"What do you do?" Harry sighed.

"Well lots of things."

Harry was expecting her to continue but according to her there was no explanation necessary. "Such as?"

She looked thoughtful for a moment before answering him. "Throughout the course of the tour, we'll usually have written a lot of songs. Sometimes we just all get inspired and gather together to collaborate. On a daily basis though, it's hard to say. Every day's different, and today seems to be a particularly slow one."

"I know I'm not feeling very inspired right now. How can you do this for months?"

"Oh, you get used to it," She waved her hand nonchalantly. Harry didn't think he could get used to this. How long had it been since he'd even been in a vehicle for—Harry checked the clock on the television—eleven and a half hours? He could barely stand it today, let alone for months.

_But you knew all this when you signed that contract._

Shaking his head, he released another sigh and ran a hand through his hair, his fingernails lightly scratching against his scalp.

"This is so nice," Astoria breathed out softly. She reclined back, her hands resting behind her head as a bumpy pillow. Her eyes had been closed, but she peeked one light hazel eye at Harry and elaborated on her proclamation when she saw Harry's confused look. "There's no arguing or fighting going on at all!"

This did nothing to cure Harry's wonder, and he felt him asking the obvious. "Was there arguing or fighting going on before?"

"All the time," she exclaimed, unexpectedly becoming very animated. "If it wasn't Millicent and Draco, it was Millicent and Blaise. There was always some kind of argument going on, and this bus used to be a very angry place. For months they'd just go at it, back and forth, back and forth. It never ended!" Her hands were up in the air as though she was upset. "I was sick of it, you know? Who wants to be stuck with people for 18 hours a day when all they do is get angry and yell the whole time?"

Harry nodded, feigning that he understood regardless of the fact that he was still completely lost. She seemed to take this time to pause in her story, and Harry felt it wise to clear up some questions. "So Blaise, Malfoy, and Millicent used to always fight?" She nodded solemnly. "Why?"

"I'm sure you heard rumors about why Millicent left the band," she asked, though it was more like an accepted statement. "Well, it was complete rubbish, mostly. She didn't leave because of some romantic affair between her and Pansy. She was actually pretty obsessed with Pansy, secretly of course, and one time we all got really drunk together, even Pansy let loose which doesn't happen often. It was a big night because our last record had gone Platinum in The States. Well Millicent had already been having trouble in the band; she was just so ungrateful and rude. We were all getting tired of her negativity, especially Draco. Well, she had more to drink than all of us at the time, and she started getting a little more than friendly with Pansy.

"I'm sure you've noticed, but Pansy's very professional and she's more like a mother to us than a manager. Can you imagine having one of your children try and make out with you?" Harry gave her a disgusted look and she nodded, satisfied. "That's how Pansy felt. She was so upset that Millicent had tried to cross that line, especially with her, and she refused to speak with Millicent unless it was absolutely necessary. Millicent was so angry that Pansy had refused her in front of everyone so harshly that she was just such a bad person after that. She complained about everything and picked fights with everyone over the smallest things. One time she threw a fit and tossed a bowl of almonds at an employee who was working for us backstage because they weren't salted."

During her story Astoria had leaned in closer to Harry, and in return Harry had leaned in as well. The last part of the story had been whispered and Harry wondered if they looked like those little children who would tell each other secrets, huddled up together so nobody could hear. But it wasn't that situation, because everyone else already knew what Astoria was telling him, so they didn't have to worry about their "secrets" spilling out from their little gossip bubble.

"Things really hit the fan though when Millicent hit Draco," she paused a second for what Harry assumed was dramatic effect. Playing along, he gasped and widened his eyes comically. "I know! Everyone was shocked. I mean, Blaise and Draco wrestled a lot, but they're guys, that's expected. He had a bruise on his face for weeks afterwards, he bruises easily and he's actually pretty fragile, though he won't admit it." Harry chuckled at that statement, Astoria giggling with him. "Anyways, after that the fighting just stopped altogether, and instead we all sort of gave her the silent treatment. We only talked to her when we needed to, and Draco ignored her during the shows. She never went to any interviews with us, and then she tried to sue us."

Harry gasped sincerely at that. The story that had started off so silly and taboo had quickly become very intense.

"'Tried,' being the key word. She threatened all of us, Pansy for sexual harassment, the rest of us for mental abuse, and specifically Draco, for physical abuse. It was all rubbish, everyone knew that. We all came to the decision that she needed to leave the band. She was fired from the group, and that's where you come in!"

Blinking repeatedly at the sudden conclusion of that story, Harry processed it all for a minute. So these guys had actually been through a lot this past year. He'd been an avid fan, and prided himself on being so thorough with his knowledge of the band, meanwhile all that had been going on behind the scenes. _Not just behind the scenes though_, since they had brought all that drama into their appearances, even though nobody thought much of it.

"Please don't disappoint us, Harry."

He had been so wrapped up in his mind that he had actually forgotten Astoria sitting right next to him. Her brown-green eyes were gazing up at him sadly, though there was a hesitant smile on her lips. Oddly, he felt as though he was staring at a puppy, hopeful but expecting the worst. He nodded resolutely and Astoria's smile became genuinely happy.

Something stirred inside of him and Harry felt _good._

He was doing the right thing, by being here with these people. He was helping them, and helping himself. All this anger and sorrow that had been brought upon by Millicent when she had been in the band had affected them so deeply that Harry felt it his duty to wipe it all gone. Like old food that had dried on a plate for days, it was hard to get off at first but if you were persistent and scrubbed hard enough, it would go away.

* * *

Just because I feel bad about updating it late, I thought I'd give you guys a little preview of what's in the next chapter!

_Panting heavily, Harry pushed forward, a driving force forming in his stomach which was twisting almost painfully from the sheer adrenaline. His hips swayed mechanically with the speed of his movements though in the dark they were not even noticeable. He quickly slapped a hand over his mouth, muffling his erratic breathing. They needed to be quiet, and he couldn't just be inhaling and exhaling so obviously. A noise sounded from the side of the room but Harry paid it no mind. He was almost there, **so close!**_

_ "Ahhh!" He exclaimed loudly when he felt Malfoy's hand squeeze his shoulder tightly. He stopped moving, and his body sagged as he panted openly. There was no use holding it in anymore, after all._

So review and let me know what you thought! Especially since you've read all this way.. it'd be a shame **not** to review.... ; )


	4. Tell Me More

**Story:** The Serpentines

**Rating:** PG-13 (Might change later on)

**Disclaimer:** Characters belong to JK Rowling. :'( And I make no profit off of this, yadda yadda yadda...

**Warnings:** AU, HPDM Slash (Eventually!), Non-magic, WiP

**Summary:** When Harry Potter makes the cut for the nationwide sensation, The Serpentines, he's in for the ride of his life, no thanks to his new band mate, Draco Malfoy. Unfortunately for Harry, he's not as made for being a musician as he thought he was. But he'll be damned if he lets Draco know that, especially when he thinks the other man's got a hidden agenda.

**Notes and such: **This chapter's really short, and I'm super sorry for that! My best friend is leaving to go back to school because his winter break is over, and so I spent pretty much the whole week hanging out with him, and I didn't have much time to write! Also, the game is actually something I play with my brothers in the middle of the night and it's REALLY fun! Of course we play in a house, and not backstage at some arena, so there's only so many hiding spots... haha! Hope you enjoy this chapter, and sorry for teasing you guys with a preview that was probably not quite what you expected it to be, in the last chapter!

**

* * *

**

Panting heavily, Harry pushed forward, a driving force forming in his stomach which was twisting almost painfully from the sheer adrenaline. His hips swayed mechanically with the speed of his movements though in the dark they were not even noticeable. He quickly slapped a hand over his mouth, muffling his erratic breathing. They needed to be quiet, and he couldn't just be inhaling and exhaling so obviously. A noise sounded from the side of the room but Harry paid it no mind. He was almost there, _so close!_

"Ahhh!" He exclaimed loudly when he felt Malfoy's hand squeeze his shoulder tightly. He stopped moving, and his body sagged as he panted openly. There was no use holding it in anymore, after all. Turning his head to glance behind him, he sent Malfoy a glare. The blond was lightly illuminated by the small neon green glow-stick around his neck, and Harry could see the satisfied smirk on the green-tinted lips.

Rolling his eyes, he snatched the stick that was hanging from Malfoy's neck and slid it over his own head to where it rested above his chest. It did little to light the room in front of him, and past his arms all Harry could see was pitch black.

"It's my turn now, Malfoy. I'm gonna come for you."

Malfoy quirked a brow, "We'll see, Potter."

Harry gave Malfoy a competitive grin before turning back around and heading for the door at the end of the hallway, outside of the room Malfoy had caught him in.

It had been a couple of weeks since Harry's first day on tour, and he had since found ways to occupy his empty time in between shows. They had arrived here at today's venue earlier around noon, and had since passed the time by exploring and playing games. Currently the game being played was called cleverly called "Hide and Glow-Seek" by Harry and Astoria.

The rules of the game were simple. One person was "It," and they had to find at least one person in the dark rooms and tag them. They would wear the glow-stick around their neck to help them see in the dark, though it wasn't really much help. However, the door that tagger waited at was the "Safe Spot" for everyone else. If they managed to make it to the Safe Spot before they were tagged, they were declared as unable to be tagged for that round.

That was where Harry had been running to when Malfoy had sneakily caught him.

It was a childish game, but Harry had soon figured out that Astoria was the kid of group, being physically and mentally younger, and she found fun in the simplest of things. Harry had helped her spice up the simple game of Hide and Seek into something that was a bit more challenging, though it was still considered a "stupid baby game" by Pansy.

Needless to say she had refused to invitation to play.

* * *

Harry really, really, really hated waiting for long periods of time, especially when you were in a small room waiting to be interviewed. It did not bode well with the lunch Harry had earlier.

Granted 'earlier' was around three hours ago.

That jumping-leg habit was starting to appear again, and he looked around warily, waiting for the interviewer to jump out from one of the couches and give him a heart attack. That would be a tragic story, 'New Bassist dies of shock from crazy couch jumper!' _You'll be fine, it's not like they're going to ask you embarrassing questions._

They would probably ask something silly and obvious. No worries.

Pansy had booked the band to do a radio interview before sound check at the local radio station nearby the venue. It was to keep up appearances, she said, and to get themselves out there. They didn't want to be hermits, after all.

That didn't mean Harry had to like it.

After what seemed like hours of waiting, they were escorted into a small cramped room with lots of microphones and metal. A man and a woman were sitting at the small table in the middle of the room, both with big headphones covering their ears.

Upon the band's entrance, Blaise leading the band enthusiastically, the two stood up to greet each of them. They shook Harry's had firmly.

"Hello, guys. Oh, and girl, my bad," the man said unapologetically, looking very much like he intended for that to be funny. Astoria gave him a courtesy laugh. "I'm Scott, this is Thea," he motioned to the blonde woman sitting excitedly next to him who waved when he name was mentioned. "Welcome, we're happy to have you all here. We'd like to just briefly go over what's going to happen in a few minutes here, alright?"

Pansy quickly looked over the questions they had prepared to ask, as well as the content of the conversation, posing as both their publicist and manager. Harry stared at the door longingly in the meantime, wishing Hermione could be here.

He hadn't heard much from his bushy-haired brunette friend. She was occupied with school during the day, and at night, she was asleep or studying, leaving them rarely any time to talk. Thankfully, the seemingly endless hours on the road brought him closer to Astoria, who was quickly becoming like a sister to him. She was sort of like the nicer, more fun, and female version of Malfoy.

Malfoy had also become increasingly nicer. Not that he was tossing tulips at Harry and announcing the beauty of the world, but they snapped at each other frequently less. It was odd, because Harry had been sure that they'd eventually have some kind of confrontation where there would be an epic fight going down.

But alas, no such thing had yet to happen. _Not that I'm upset by that, but it would be interesting._

His attention was brought back to the radio interview by Astoria's firm grip on his arm. He was seated in between her and Blaise, Draco sitting on the other side of Blaise, and closer to the radio hosts.

"You just heard "Honey" by The Hush Sound. Now today on the show we have some very special guests," the man smiled pleasantly at everyone. "The Serpentines are here in the studio with us, and are ready to answer some questions. Now, this is actually your first interview since being in the band Harry, isn't it?"

Harry nodded mutely, feeling a lump in his throat he couldn't quite swallow.

"Perfect, so we should feel quite honored then, eh?" The couple laughed and Harry felt he should offer a smile, however weak it looked. "So tell us how it all happened, Harry. Since it's your first interview, nobody really knows much about you."

Cleared throat? Check.

Sweaty palms? Check.

Leaning in to the microphone? Check.

Words coming out of your mouth? Not so much…

Astoria's hand squeezed his knee comfortingly, and Harry managed to get out a few words, albeit a bit shakily. "Um, well I was in my third year of University a few months ago when the auditions came by. My friend Hermione helped me out with it—"

"So you had to quit school?" The man interrupted.

"Uh, yes."

"And once you got the job, what happened?"

"A lot of things, really," Harry saw Draco turn to watch him out of his peripherals. He leaned a little closer to the microphone. "We did a lot of practicing, they had to get me all up-to-date with the music and just getting me settled. Then we began the tour not long ago." He sat back in his chair, relaxing significantly now that his story was finished.

"Ah, speaking of touring, we heard about your late start on your first show. I guess you, uh, froze and then fainted?" The man chuckled, and Harry tensed up immediately, feeling a bit angry at the man for laughing at his situation.

Malfoy spoke up next, flashing Harry a charming smile before revealing something he wish the blond never knew. "Harry's afraid of tomatoes."

His eyes narrowed at Malfoy fractionally, and he saw that spark in the gray eyes that signified a challenge being tossed in the air, just waiting for Harry to grab the bait. And he would have, he had found lots of incriminating things about Malfoy in the past few months. Unfortunately, the slightly balding man interrupted the conversation again.

"You're afraid of tomatoes?"

"I don't particularly like them, but I'm not _afraid_," Harry cleared up, though he heard Malfoy whisper something about being scared enough to faint. His cheeks flared up with anger and embarrassment, and he wished he were sitting next to Malfoy so he could physically hurt him. Words were clearly not his forte, and he'd only end up looking ridiculous if he got into a verbal fight.

Just when he thought Malfoy was becoming nicer, and that they were getting along, he goes and does something like _this._

* * *

For the most part, the shows went the same way every night. Harry, Blaise and Astoria would all go on stage first, playing the intro to the first song, and Malfoy would show up after the crowd got riled up a bit.

It was still difficult for Harry in the beginning. His heart would beat quickly, and he'd have to continuously wipe his palms against his trousers. His hands would be shaky as he grabbed his bass from the roadie, and those first few plucks of the thick metal string would always be a little hesitant and unsure.

When Malfoy showed up, Harry's nervous panic would begin to disappear into a dull throb in his chest, and his fingers would become more purposeful.

There was no special reason behind it, like Malfoy being so beautiful that Harry wanted to serenade him with his baritone sound. It was only for the simple fact that when Malfoy appeared, all attention went to the blond, and stayed off of Harry for the most part. He could only hide behind his instrument so much, but Malfoy was like an eclipse, and Harry was ever grateful.

This show felt odd, though. It felt _different_, in a way Harry couldn't grasp at first.

About halfway through the show, the back of Harry's neck tingled. It was that feeling you get when you think someone's watching you, only it was much more direct. There were hundreds of people staring in Harry's direction, but he could tell it wasn't them.

Pushing his foot off of the large speaker he had rested it on, he turned his body towards the left. A shock ran through his body when he noticed the bright eyes staring intently at him.

He stared back, his eyebrow lifting slowly in confusion when Draco took an uncharacteristically hesitant step towards him.

Abandoning the uncertainty quickly, _it just isn't him,_ Malfoy strode over to Harry. His eyes seemed so much more vivid than normal and Harry was sure it was due to the intensely bright beams of light hitting them. It was a little disconcerting having Malfoy stare at him with those eyes, in that way…

When Malfoy walked behind him, Harry gulped, but when Malfoy pressed his body up against him from behind, Harry's fingers slipped on the string and the next few notes were all jumbled and wrong.

The closest they had ever been together was when they had to sit next to one another, and that one time when Harry tripped over the cement and accidentally pushed Malfoy onto the grass. But those had been innocent, and the way Malfoy was swaying his hips behind Harry was anything but.

However the crowd _loved_ it. The cheers and screams that came from them was almost as loud and intense as it was when Malfoy first came out on stage.

One determined hand even managed to slide itself over Harry's back and shoulder before he realized he was being shamelessly groped in front of all these people, by a man who didn't exactly like Harry. He wanted to say something, and he wanted to look back at Malfoy and ask him what the fuck he was doing, because Harry sure as hell was confused. But all he could do was stand there rigidly, concentrating deeply on where his fingers were supposed to go next. Across the stage, Astoria was looking over at them with shock clearly evident on her face, which was soon followed by amusement.

Maybe this was a joke. Perhaps Blaise dared Malfoy to do this and when the show was over they'd all have a good laugh about poor little Potter who got all scared and worked up.

He didn't really notice when Malfoy had pulled away from him to pick up singing the rest of the song. All he could think of was that Malfoy would pay for this, for Harry's humiliation. One way or another, something would happen, and Malfoy needed to think twice before deciding to humiliate him.

* * *

The next morning Harry had been up for hours before Blaise and Astoria woke up.

Malfoy didn't get up until after noon, and when he showed himself to his band mates. He was sickly white and sweaty, his hair disheveled and the faint hint of vomit coming from him.

Harry was both concerned and happy that Malfoy was sick, because finally—_finally_—he was getting what he deserved.

* * *

**Please Review! You've already come this far!!**


End file.
